The Morning After
by silver-etoile
Summary: Harry tries desperately to remember the night before. HD slash.


Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own Harry Potter and/or any other characters used in this fic. They are all property of J.K. Rowling

* * *

Harry awoke warm and content, despite the slight pounding in his temples, snuggled under the heavy comforter that blocked the cold winter air from penetrating. He snuggled in deeper, moving towards the middle of the bed when something stopped him.

A long, warm body was pressed against his back. He froze as he moved, now wide awake. He didn't dare turn around for a moment, fearing waking up whoever his bed partner might be.

As he lay in bed, he tried desperately to remember the night before. It had been the Christmas ball in Hogwarts. There had been much celebrating, probably more than usual since Voldemort was finally gone.

Instead of the usual Christmas feast with just a few students who normally stayed behind at the holidays, it had been a ball of sorts and most of the older students had stayed.

There had been dancing, and laughing, and jokes made. Harry remembered standing with Ron making fun of Pansy Parkinson and her date, Draco Malfoy, as they strutted across the hall.

Ron had said that Pansy looked like a pumpkin with legs in the orange dress robes she had so hideously selected for the evening. Harry remembered Hermione putting a stop to the teasing after just a little bit of carrying on.

Harry thought hard, trying to ignore the soft rise and fall of the chest behind him. He didn't want to look yet, to find something he might regret. If he was lucky, he might be able to sneak out unseen.

The night before, he remembered Dumbledore saying something about not partying too much, but no one had taken heed. He recalled Ginny sneaking off early, Dean Thomas in tow. Ron hadn't seemed too happy about that, but Harry was perfectly fine with it. They had broken up months ago, much to Ron's displeasure.

Harry remembered much of the night as fending off people's advances. Seamus, if he was remembering right, had made several flirtatious moves. Each time, he was rebuffed, once by Harry, a few times by an annoyed Hermione, and even once by Ron who said he "didn't want see that."

Harry hadn't said much to Ron's comment, but it had stuck in his head. He'd never had a problem with Seamus before. Maybe it was just Seamus hitting on his best friend.

After dancing a few times with different girls, Ginny, Hermione, Parvati, he thought he'd gone to the bathroom. He didn't remember meeting anyone in there, so he hoped he wasn't forgetting some crucial detail.

About halfway through the evening, Seamus had snuck back over to him, slipping past Hermione's watchful gaze. He'd offered Harry a bit of smuggled in alcohol. Harry had taken it carefully, unsure if it was a good idea.

He'd hidden it from Hermione and drank a bit, finding it made him happier and more open. In less than an hour after Seamus had offered it, the two of them had become quite drunk, giggling and laughing at any random thing.

Harry's eyes widened as a forbidden thought entered his mind. What if it was Seamus that was pressed up against him? What if he had gotten so drunk that he went to bed with Seamus? The thought blazed through his brain, leaving a trail of broken thoughts in its wake.

It would be horrible if he turned around and Seamus was there, sleeping so soundly. He didn't want it to be Seamus. It wasn't that it was a guy, he'd been with plenty, whether Ron approved or not, but he didn't think he could handle the consequences of a night spent with his friend and dorm mate.

He quickly returned his mind to the previous night, trying to find any possibility that might explain whose bed he was so warmly ensconced in.

After getting quite drunk with Seamus, Hermione had discovered them sitting at a table in the Great Hall, giggling and pointing out hot guys, laughing whenever one would look their way.

Hermione had scoffed and dragged Seamus out of his chair, giving him a full-fledged lecture on the dangers of drinking alcohol.

Harry didn't remember any of the speech. His attention had been caught by something else on the other side of the room.

As Harry reached this point in his memory of the previous night, the picture began to go fuzzy. He strained his brain to think of what he had been so interested in. He could remember getting up, ignoring Hermione's reprimand, and going over to whoever it had been.

He wracked his brain for any recollection of the following events, but it was all blank. As he lay in the bed, staring hard at the bed on the opposite side of the room, he realized something. Everything was green. The bed sheets were green, the curtains were green. Little silver snakes were carved into the legs of the tables and posts.

A Slytherin. That's whose bed he was in. _Uh oh_, was Harry's only coherent thought as he stared at the green in horror.

What could have possessed him to go home with a Slytherin? He slid his hand under the covers and found to his relief that he wasn't completely naked. His boxers were still intact, but everything else was gone.

With a jolt of panic, he felt his bed companion shift behind him, mumbling something incoherent, and sliding an arm over Harry's waist, almost protectively.

Harry felt nervous butterflies flutter in his stomach uncomfortably as the hand rested casually over his waist. He needed to figure out who this was, and quick. He now feared that turning around would wake the other person, something he was not keen to do in this situation.

He closed his eyes tightly, screwing up his brain to remember the night before.

Tiny details began trickling back; hands in the dark, fumbling and racing against time to undress, a hasty mouth sliding over his body, tongue dipping into crevices on his body. He remembered whispered names, his name, over and over.

He remembered green, lots and lots of green. And stumbling. He recalled stumbling over furniture in their haste to get to the bedroom. He wondered if he was going to have bruises.

More importantly, was it going to hurt if he tried to sit up? He lay in the bed, trying to piece together the details that were slowly filtering into his mind. So far, he knew he had somehow ended up with a Slytherin, carelessly tearing clothes off the other in an effort to speed up the process.

It wasn't like Slytherins were off limits, but there was something definitely wrong with this picture to Harry. He happened to be dating someone, even if it was something of a secret. Even Ron and Hermione didn't know about this boy. So waking up in the bed of another boy, a Slytherin at that, would not look very good.

Harry took a deep breath, but it caught in his throat as the person behind him moved again, obviously waking up. He froze, hoping to Merlin everything would be alright.

He felt the hand on his waist move, sliding over his side and up his torso. The hand was soft, and no callused. It slid over his chest as the person shifted closer, his chest and stomach pressing against Harry's back, feeling warm and comfortable.

Harry's heart constricted with nerves as he felt the person's breath on his ear.

"'Morning," said a low voice. A kiss was pressed to Harry's neck and Harry let out a relieved sigh.

He turned around almost instantly, surprising the boy behind him. "Merlin, Harry, what?"

"Thank God it's you," Harry said, incredibly relieved. He leaned forward, capturing the other boy's lips in a heated kiss. When they broke apart, Harry smiled sheepishly. "I was worried I might have done something stupid last night."

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow as his boyfriend stammered an excuse. "As a matter of fact, you did," he drawled, trailing his fingers over Harry's stomach.

"I did?" Harry asked apprehensively, scooting closer to Draco.

"Yes. You and Finnigan got schnockered and you decided you wanted something."

"Please say you," Harry said desperately and Draco laughed.

"Luckily for you, yes, it was me. However, unfortunately for you, you decided that you needed me right then."

"No," Harry said quietly, looking away from Draco, his mouth dropping open.

"Yes," Draco replied. "You decided that I shouldn't be dancing with Pansy, and that I should be shagging you instead."

"Please tell me I didn't do that in front of everyone?"

"Well, Finnigan might not remember," Draco drawled, clearly enjoying Harry's torment.

"Oh gods," Harry breathed, not noticing Draco's advance and his hand trailing lower.

"As I recall, you called Pansy a pumpernickel and said that she didn't have a snowflake's chance in hell at sleeping with me because… How did you put it? Oh yes, 'Draco will be buggering me tonight, so you can go bugger yourself with an apple.' You've never been very articulate."

Harry groaned and buried his head in Draco's chest. This was awful. No one was supposed to know about him and Draco and now pretty much the entire school knew, and the rest would as soon as they came back. They hadn't told anyone for a reason. Slytherin-Gryffindor relationships weren't exactly welcomed at Hogwarts, especially when it took two of the best looking guys off the market.

Draco held Harry in his arms as Harry lamented his stupid decision to drink last night. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid.

"Draco," Harry said, his voice muffled by Draco's chest.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you think Ron's waiting outside to Avada me?"

"Doubtful."

Harry looked up. "Why?"

"Because you did one more thing before dragging me off for rounds of hot, sweaty, _dirty_ sex."

Harry looked apprehensive. "And what was that?"

"You seemed to think his comments about your friend Finnigan were offensive and you temporarily blinded him."

"What?!" Harry shrieked.

"Relax, Harry. Granger fixed it in like a second, but I think you scarred your friend for life when you stuck your hands down my robes and insisted that I fuck you raw."

"Oh god," Harry moaned, feeling both utterly embarrassed and horribly stupid.

"I thought it was kind of hot," Draco whispered in his ear.

Harry looked up at him with a withering expression on his face. "You would."

"You know," Draco said thoughtfully, shifting so that Harry felt what had slowly been becoming more apparent, his hardened cock. "Since you don't remember last night, how 'bout I give you a refresher?"

"What about the rest of the school? Everyone knows now."

"Well, I hope they don't know about this," Draco said slyly, sliding a hand in between their bodies and gripping Harry's hardening cock.

"What are we going to tell them, though?" Harry asked, trying to ignore Draco's hand.

"That it's our own fucking business and they don't need to worry about it," Draco said, moving up Harry's body and pressing a loving kiss to his lips.

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. "You know that's not going to work."

"Then they'll just have to accept that we're together and that's that."

Harry smiled impulsively. "I love how decisive you are."

"Mmm," Draco murmured, pressing a kiss to Harry's neck. "And I love that you're an affectionate drunk."

Harry laughed and kissed Draco hard.

From outside the dorm, the rest of the Slytherin boys stepped away from the door as the sounds changed. They looked at each other for a moment, then shrugged and walked away.

When Harry would finally emerge from the dorms, it would be all over the school that he'd spent the night with Draco Malfoy. Hermione would give him a sly smile and wait until later to question him while Ron would avoid him for several days after until finally coming to him and admitting that he was sorry for his actions and had decided to maybe, just a little, slightly accept Draco.

Harry would be content with his boyfriend, spending the rest of the year in a blissful state, knowing that, for the moment, his life was perfect.

_Oh, oh maybe, we were made, we were made for each other.  
Is it possible for the world to look this way forever?_

_

* * *

_

A/N: Lyric from MFEO by Jack's Mannequin :) This fic is dedicated to Meena 'cause it's her birthday today! Please review!


End file.
